Thursday, November 09, 2017

THE WRONG TARGET

Pursuant something from a few years ago, it's probably glaringly obvious that I am not cute and huggable and only slightly cynical. And this is borne out by the complete absence of bright young things seeking my company, other than the young Filipino homosexual who recently called me "daddy", and hoped we could go somewhere after bar closing time.
To which kind offer I presented a deaf ear.
He was entirely askew in his intoxicated inspiration, and barking up the wrong tree. Even if he had been a woman, it would not have resulted in linkage of any kind. Sensible men do not pick up women in bars.
Or other men.

Still, that was the first time in a while that someone has looked at me in a misguided way, and I suppose I should be flattered.
He may have been myopic.

I do not feel cute and huggable, and I am hugely a cynic.


After finishing my dinner (curried chicken, potatoes, bacon, and rice), I shall head out for a nightcap. I do not expect any unseemly advances.


You should understand that I reserve daytime venues for being unseemly and advanced upon, though that, alas, does not happen. Or if it does my density prevents me from being aware of it. Also, the places where I can be found when not at work during the day are probably not optimum for that either, usually being small eateries in Chinatown where I sip milk tea and dream before the food comes, or alleyways in the same neighborhood where I smoke a pipe after the food that came has been consumed.

If something cannot be done during the sober light of day, it certainly will not do at night and after cocktails.



I like to keep the lights on too.




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